A Breath of Ice
by AccomodatorOmega
Summary: When a young Draco is sent on a mission that isolates him from everyone what will happen when he can't remember who he is and who he is suppose to find? When a deathly weather traps a city will it help Draco to remember or doom him forever to be alone?
1. Chapter 1

_A Breathe of Ice_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters 'cept the poorly developed original characters that don't do much . . .

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**Part I: The Cold and the Forgotten  
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It was a normal day like any other, there wasn't a single thing that made it stand out more than any other day in the past. The sky was the same dreary and bland shade of blue that settled over the sky after the sun had found it's daily place behind the foreboding pack of ceaseless clouds. A slight and bored breeze flowed through the trees hardly unsettling the leaves that covered them and the untrodden ground.The penetrable cold could only be seen in the occasional breath that dared escape from someone who had unwisely ventured outside the wall that marked the border of city, such an unsightly scene caused an eerie sense as by some magic the nature surrounding the fortress town had remained untouched by the death grasp of the endless cold. Nobody except the fool or the unattended child were unlucky enough to wander out in the bone chilling cold. These poor souls never had the chance to come back, the moment they stepped into the unforgiving chill they were lost to the world and no one spoke of them. They ceased to exists.

The disappearances dwindled in number as the birth rate dropped and the mothers tightened their grip on their offspring with a death grip that rivaled that held by the cold. No one dared speak of the ceased ones. The townspeople lamented in their isolation that seems to have lasted since the beginning of any of their times. It was difficult for them to remember anything specific of the sort concerning time and place in reference to the past. The only thing that sustained the fragile pulse of the people was a half dilapidated and grown-over castle that was set up on a hill just off centre of the city and always leaning toward the horizon. In the warmest and most secluded part of the castle lived the unseen beacon of hope. Though no one could quite remember who or what it was that lived their, only that someday it would waken and save them.

There was only one woman who knew and remember the days that were flooded with bright warm light and surrounded by brilliant blue skies full of songbirds and music. Unfortunately, she was aging and quite decrepit, her looks scared off all of the young-folk she had once told her stories to and those that she had told stories to had become the ceased ones. Her shack of a house was poorly constructed less than half a mile from the ten foot high wall that closed off the city fom the unfrozen and deathly cold nature. She sat in a rocking chair that seemed on the verge of collapse every time she leaned forward and back. Even with her failing sight she gazed at that darkening sky that was coming with the passing of noon. Behind her rose the city out of dirt and dispair. Houses were squashed together and leaning against each other in an attempt to stay upright. Some weren't so strong and had long since fallen like the families they had once sheltered. The zig-zagging streets went up and down and the main road, the only one made out of stone that had once connected the city to the outside world, is the road that leads directly to the hallowed castle whose doors never opened. All this she was seperate from though she was right next ot this main road no one every passed her. Her isolation at the edge of the city was icy and quiet.

That was soon to change. A boy was lurking near by. The woman in her senility could not see him but she could sense him coming up the path to her house. She lifted her head with the agility of a cheetah. The sudden and unexpected movement scared the boy who jumped back in surprise and fell to his bottom at the end of the stairs leading up to the porch where she had been quietly sitting staring off into the unknown.

"Do not fear young-one. What is it I speak of?!" She incoherently babbled to herself as if she had not believed her own words that had been meant to comfort. "You smell of the ceased ones, why should you fear me as it would seem you've been in the Unseen death! I have done nothing to you and it would seem as though the Unseen has not been able to harm you either. How have you come to be here?" Her labored breathing and long string of conversation confused the boy who had remained still on the ground. When he did not answer with a ready reply she sighed and excerted much energy in an attempt to gather a better image of the lost creature before her. Her old wrinkled and bagging eyes squinted with effort creating the illusion that she was merely closing her eyes at him. After mere seconds though her face soon changed to a sort of horrified surprise ending with a gleefully excited and sadistic hope.

"You." She whispered breathlessly. He was of slender build no more than five foot five inches tall though at one point long ago it could have been said that he was a full five foot seven and a half but the weather had worn away at him. His long white-blonde hair dwarfed his size and served to shade is face from being seen other than his deep set and insomnic-ridden silver-ice eyes. He wasn't wearing a shred of clothes and he had scratches and scares all over his malnourished body.The only thing he cared was a shovel that was sadly attached to his back with a piece of rope that crisscrossed his front and that had chaffed a permanent scare on his shoulders and sides.

"You have let death come upon us all." Only a moment later and she became quite blue in tone and ice leaked from her eyes and she moved no more. The boy stared in empty solitude at the motionless body wordlessly as he slowly rose from the ground and lowered his head as he made his way to the inner city where he wish to not be so noticeable. He guiltlessly stole one the old woman's tattered robes and pulled the hood over his head. He methodically grabbed the shovel off his back and carefully began to dig a hole in the ground. Digging these endless pits to house the ceased ones. Each time he would allow a lone tear to trickle the side of his face to land on the forgotten one before he placed the dirt back where it had been before such an awful occurrence. Though the city was small the winding roads and the steeping hills and ditches made the city seem very large indeed. As the woman lived on the very border the boy knew he would have a difficult journey before him as he stood on the main road.

The boy had been traveling for years it seemed though it had only been one and a half since he had begun his mission. In all the time he had spoken to no one and he had forgotten almost everything that was not important, he hardly even knew his name, he always had to think of it for a few minutes before it came to him. The only thing that stayed crystal clear in his mind was who he was searching for, the very person that would save them all. But with the looks of the city it would appear that he would also need to save it before he could succeed in his mission. His uneventful hike consisted of him practising his speech as he often did in order to remember his duty.

"Let me have him. He can save us. He has to. I need him. I need--take him with me--I'm . . . I'm . . . "His face contorted in rage at himself he was desperatly trying to find any vestige of memory that could give him a hint of his identity, anything that wore the letters of his name. His forced expressions quickly turned into despair at his failings he couldn't even find a bread crumb of his memory. He tried to continue. "I'm . . . my name is . . . I . . ." He couldn't remember his name anymore and who was he trying to kid he didn't even remember who he was after let alone who that person was to save or even how. He curled up in futility under a lone willow tree that was silently swaying in contempt at the arrival of the snivelling boy that disturbed its pece. He wept until he could no longer stay awake allowing himself to slip into oblivion under the restless tree.

The boy woke to a loud clattering near his head that severely startled him causing him to jump hastily from below the tree. The source of the noise was a rickety carriage drawn by a single mule that looked as though it could drop dead at any moment. Before he was able to gain his composure on his own time a gruff voice yelled at him and yanked him up off of the ground jostling him to the bones.

"What'ch doin' on the ground ye damn scoundrel? Blockin' the bloody road for the rest of us. Damn inconsidr'te filth. Bet'cha wer' convers'n' with that damned witch ye fool y'll just end up disappeared. Are ye lis'nen boy?!" The man slapped him across the face hard enough to draw blood. With no response the man threw him harshly into the back of his carriage and once again assumed his position on the top to steer. He didn't try to awaken any further but instead allowed himself to fall back into a light doze that was only slightly disturbed by the rough roads into the city. What felt like hours later he awoke but somehow he was somewhere else and he no longer possesed his shovel but was still only clad in the cloak he had stolen. When he looked around he saw that he was in some sort of stable but instead of horses he could only see other children of varying ages wearing different levels of dispair on their faces, he could even spot a few broken adults lurking in the corners staring into oblivion and slightly drooling unnoticed by the surrounding children. He weakly slid himself so that he could lean against the rotting wood boards that formed the sides of the human stables.

A young girl crawled toward him out of a mass of hudling children in the centre of the stable and tried to peer under his hood but he would not let her see his forgotten face full of mysteries and the breathe of ice accompanied by the smell of the ceased ones that the old coot had pointed out. The young girl had crudely chopped short straw coloured hair that meet her shoulders in some places. "Ooooooooooooouuuuuuuu." She cooed at him. "A pretti one eh?" She grinned maliciously before her face melted into a look of apathy. "You's are new 'eh. I glad I's ugly cuz then they'll take you first." She burst into a maniacle giggle that showed a mouth of missing, broken, and, sharpened teeth. "The man is gonna make a pretti buck off ya, right quick and long."

He was terrified, though he didn't really know what she was meaning he couldn't even bring himself to talk as he hadn't talked to another human being in so long. "Oh, the pretti boy can't speak the custmers'll 'njoy that right eh." The scruffy girl further observed. " So what'ch name'sa bein' huh?" He still could not answer and he kept lowering his head more and drawing is knees up more in an attempt to hide from the strange and cruel girl. "Ain't got one then? Well, I'll name ya Mouse you's quiet 'nough. How bout it Mouse?" He looked at her curiously but he did not make to respond. "My name's Osswey 'n Pea. You's not gonna last long so I'll be yer friends till then." She smiled hollowly this time and formed herself to his side. He was threatened by the unusual contact but it was so warm that he did not care to move.

The next morning was dark and unknown as he, now known as Mouse, could not see out of his stable that upon further analysis was one a many and that they were all part of some sort of warehouse a kind of which had no windows, so as far as he knew it might not be morning at all. For the most part the warehouse of captives was quiet except for the occasional whimper of pain or whine of a nightmare. Not once through the unending hours did the man that had found him enter the warehouse let alone anyone else. They did not eat and they did not speak again for days. Mouse would occasionally get up and wander in circles with Osswey 'n Pea but mostly they slept leaning against each other. Then when he thougt he was about to die of dehydration like others had a group of weathered and beaten looking men came in and walked the centre lane, the only pathway that was in the human stable, and yelled at all the inhabitants to back up to the wall. The living were obedient and the dead were exposed. The large rough men tirelessly disposed of the dead bodies for hours. When they had taken the last body out the remaining captives spread out and cautiously went back to sleeping with one eye open. A few hours later the same men came back and put a dirty bucket of water and a long thing rotting loaf of bread in each of the stables.

"Don't be shy eat all ye want." One of the rough men laughed mockingly at the prisoners and spitting at a few of them as he left with the others.

After the pathetic excuse for a meal Mouse leaned back in his usually spot next to Osswey 'n Pea. Today she was feeling rather cheery, well for someone who couldn't see the day of light, not that there was much outside, and who hadn't eaten much and she began to question him to see if he could talk. "So, where ye from Mouse? I know ye try ta hide yer hair but I can see it and it ain't normal round here." He slowly rose his head and meet her eyes for the first time which turned out to be a dirty honey colour and he stared at her emptily as he tried to remember how to speak. She wasn't thrown off much by his eyes but the sight of their colour did mke her eyes widden to a rather bugged out look for moment.

"I--ah--" Mouse tried rather incoherently. "I'm--from far . . . think . . . somethi--one . . . looking." Osswey laughed at his sad attempt and she was about to ask another question when the door to the warehouse burst open for second time that day. A well dress man walked in, he was of great stature and his hair was sculpted into perfect waves that bordered his face and was gently pulled back into a ponytail that was held by a white ribbon. His clothes were made of a magnificent and unreal looking magestic purple velvet and his shoes were an absolutely blindingly shined black shoes. He wore a strained look of disgust at the smell of sweat, urine, and shit. He spoke in the most fashioned and mannered yet clipped voice Mouse had heard in some time.

"I'm looking for something in particular--" His mouth quirked into an evil smirk. "For a friend of course. I need a boy--"

The same man that had left the food and water and mocked them bellowed at them again. "Girls to the wall!" Much motion ensued as all the girls hurridly scuffled to get to the wall so that they would not get beaten or punished worse once the customer was gone. Even Osswey donned a horrified look as she crawled to the wall. "Boys to the front! NOW!" Mouse nearly jumped out of his skin, even though he was in one of the last stables the voice still boomed clear through him to the back. He quickly jumped to the wooden side that sided with the walkway. Every boy that stood near the path shook with fear so Mouse did the same as he didn't really know what was going to happen. Mouse tenatively glanced up from the ground to see the purple clad man elegantely and stiffly walk down the pathway with the crude man in tow.

"Very nice." The well dressed man appreciated the obedience before he snapped at the man a look. "Mark me Bartholomew, if I do not find what I want--"

"Don't worry Lord Marlow. You always find what you come for." The man that had been identified as Bartholomew assured. The Lord walked at a slow pace occasionally grabbing a boy's face and tilting it before he full out rejected the boy. Each boy that was thrown back would scramble back with the other children and shake uncontrollably with the their glee for not having been picked. It seemed to take him hours but eventually the Lord made his way to Mouse.

"Why is his face covered Bartholomew!" The Lord belted.

"Sorry ma'Lord, it slipped my attention." Bartholomew apologized before he turned viciously on Mouse. "Take that bloody hood off boy." Instead of waiting he ripped it off himself. The Lord's eyes visibly widened as he formed an unconscious half-smile. Mouse's hair flowed out and the wonderous white-blonde locks streamed over his cloaked body and his silver-ice eyes shinned dully in the unlighted building. The Lord spoke breathlessly, "I will have him." The Lord threw a full purse at the shocked Bartholomew as he tore open the door and grabbed the wide-eyed and frightened boy genlty by the arm and hastily left. Mouse helplessly looked back at Osswey 'n Pea the only person he had conversed with in forever and now she was giggling and mouthing 'I told you'. Mouse was heartbroken and scared and was now being pulled along by a strange man that he most certainly did not want to leave with. Once they reached the outside, which noteable took much less time then it had taken the Lord to reach him, the weak light blinded him as he was shoved into a much nicer carriage than before but just as harshly. The inside was covered in plush royal purple velvet that felt soft against his bare bottom that brushed it as his cloak flew up. The Lord immediately noticed that the boy had no clothing on under the cloak and quickly jumped into the carriage and sat across the boy placing his hand on his knee drawing Mouse's frightened gaze up to meet his preying and hungry eyes.

Within the moments of staring the carriage began to move at a comfortable pace and the Lord methodically closed the curtains on the carriage doors without removing his eyes from Mouse's or his hand from the slender boys knee. The hungry look in the Lord's eyes spread to envelope his enitre face morphing it into a most predatory look. The Lord went to his knees and began to caress and kiss Mouse's knee causing the boy to freeze and become very tense. He slid his hand up the boys bare inner thigh drawing a whine out of the boy which made him smile more. Mouse wanted to cry as he was being touched in ways that he never wished to be touched in such a way by such a perveted man. He wanted to die and right then he was saved by a furious tapping at the window of the carriage that resulted in the window breaking and a lone white owl fluttered in and landed on Mouse's leg. The Lord was infuriated and batted the owl away but not before Mouse snathced the small piece of paper and clutched it so that the Lord couldn't see.

The Lord was not amused and muttered to himself but his mood was disturbed and he was no longer interested in the boy at that moment and Mouse was thankful for that. The rest of the ride was tense but the Lord didn't touch or even look at the boy instead he brooded in silence and stared out the window. The same bland scenery meet his eyes like any other day he had cared to look outside and when the carriage finally reached his manor he promptly stepped out of the carriage and left the driver to drag and throw Mouse into a small room at the back of the manor. He looked around himself as the door slammed shut and he saw something that resembled a pantry as there were shelfs on one side and some brooms and such lying in the corner next to a pile of hay and a tattered sheet that he supposed was to be his bed. Again there was no window but there were many cracks in the walls so he had some light to see by. Behind him he could here the driver or someone locking the door from the outside so that he couldn't get anywhere. But he didn't even know where to go had he anywhere to go to begin with.

He sat down in order to read the note in the dim light: _Remember Draco. Find me._

TBC

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Enjoy and Review Please XD


	2. Chapter 2

Part II: Dreams

That was his name. His name was Draco. Wasn't it? The note was meant for him, right? But how could he know that for sure? He felt that there was some significance in the snow-white bird but he couldn't quite remember what exactly. The possible Draco doubled over, he was so unsure, he screamed in frustration as the memories weren't flooding back to him like he had hoped. _Why can't I remember? _The confused boy pulled at his hair angrily, nearly pulling out the fine silk white-blonde strands right out of his head. His frustration brought sweat to his brow until he finlly gave up in his desperation and he flopped unceremoniously onto his hay pile which was not the smartest idea as his head went right through and hit the hard dirty ground harshly. But he hadn't the energy to do anything but let a small groan escape his lips. He fell into a restless sleep and he thrashed around in his dark oblivion of a mind.

At the edges of his mind he could feel the haze of a dream entering his unconscious mind forming into cloudy figures before his mind's eye. His inner eye tried to blink the image clear but it wasn't working, he thrashed wildly in reality trying the bat the vision clear, also unsuccessfully. What he managed to see was a boy with hair just like his standing in front of very tall and old man with an extremely long and silver beard and half-moon spectacles. The old man also hd a pointy hat and he was saying something to the boy that looked like him only with short, ear length hair. After a bit he could see that the boy was acknowledging whatever the old man had said to him. The image began to clear and the assumed now to be called Draco grew excited at what he might see as the old man handed him a photo with a face that had raven-black hair but just as it was about to come into focus Draco was thrown awake.

Water had been splashed into his face interrupting his foretelling dream. "Nooooooooooooo!" He screamed. "I was so close!" His sudden outburst startled the shabby boy that he supposed was the one who had thrown the water on him but Draco too was surprised at his sudden ability to say a complete and coherent sentence. Draco immediately clammed up thinking it unsafe to appear to be hiding some strange truth that he didn't actually know, or remember. In their silent exchange Draco got a good look at the boy opposite him standing in the door back-grounded by the bland blue light, he looked at the dirty red hair that he supposed at one point must have been fiery and he noticed that the boy also had freckles, though they were hard to see past the layer of dust. He again got the strange unsettling feeling that he knew this boy, but that was impossible. Right?

"Don't bloody stare at me like that. I'm a slave just like you are so get your ass up and help me get the food from the market." The dirty-red haired boy spouted in an attempt to hide his previous off-gaurd status. Before he fully turned and left he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, and here are some clothes and before we go we'll have to get you a hair cut." He threw the bundle clothes to the ground before the door slammed shut behind him but it did wasn't locked like it had the previous evening. Draco looked at the clothes it was a dirty-white simple tunic and some itchy looking brown trousers.

A few minutes later Draco cautiously exited his quarters. "Uhm--" The other boy interrupted him abruptly.

"Took you long enough. Sit down so I can cut you hair, right quick." The boy pointed harshly to an upturned barrel that look like it was going to fall apart just like practically everything else he had encounter so far. He wordlessly sat down. When the boy was done crudely cutting his hair Draco stood and tentatively dared to ask a question. "What's your name. I'm Draco--" And he stopped as he realized he still could not remember his last name so he merely cut his sentence short with a frown.

"Oh," The boy blushed a deep red the reached his ears that were poking out from behind his dirty-red hair. "I don't really know for sure. But the other slaves call me Red because of my hair." Draco was sure he knew this boy but he restrained himself from asking Red if he knew him as he thought it might not help him and only work to make him look strange. "Well, Draco, your new so you'll go with me to the market today so that you can learn the way and learn what to get."

Draco stayed close to Red, over-lapping the tall and lanky boy's shadow. He nervously ran his hand through his roughly cut hair that had left him feeling light and scruffy at its new length. He didn't know what to say or whether he even should say anything. As he contemplated what he could say he glanced from side to side to get an idea of his surroundings. All around him there were tightly packed and stacked shack like houses that were interrupted by an occasional dark alley or an overgrown garden surrounded by a decaying fence. The people around him shuffled passed with a slow and hopeless pace, never once did he see a person look up, merely walking as if it were habit, as if they did the exact same movements everyday. It wasn't much longer that they finally reached the market place which was just as lifeless in energy as the streets. People picked things up, put them back or dropped them in a basket of some sort and mindlessly paid the stand owner. Not a word was exchanged.

He silently watched as Red did the same thing. First he picked up ten apples and placed them gently into the bg he was carrying and calmly handed the man a few gold coins in payment. Then he went on to buy lettuce, jerky of some sort, some other types of fruits and vegetables. When Red was done and they began making their way back to the manor Red spoke, "Yep, and that's how it goes."

Draco looked at him incredulously. "How come no one speaks?"

"Oh, they gave up speaking long ago it seems. They don't really have a reason to. I'm a little confused to as why I wasn't born here and I don't remember where I came from but from what I have seen nothing ever changes. Nothing ever happens here. Every so often a someone will disappear but no one talks about it when it happens. I just learned to accept that and do the simple chores that I'm given." Red said it so simply as if it were second nature.

Draco didn't really want to accept that answer but didn't feel he should push the boy anymore. But he wanted so much to remember and he wanted to see if they boy could help him do so. "Hey." He asked in an over-friendly manner after they had walked in silence for a few blocks. "Do you ever have the feeling that you've seen a person and knew them once but couldn't quite place their face?" The other boy gave him a strange look before he let his eyes wander into the depths of his mind to remember if he'd ever felt that.

"Well, now that you mention it, you look familiar." Red said in a voice that edged on discomfort. "Though I doubt I know you."

"Why?" Draco continued. "You don't remember your past and neither do I. The only reason I know my name is--" This admission drew Red's face back to his.

"You know your name? How?" He asked oddly.

"Well, it was on a piece of paper that I--" He wanted to say 'that I got from a bird' but realized that would sound really weird. "--that I found on me. It said 'Remember Draco. Find me.'"

"Well, that's bloody weird. I wish I knew what my real name was." Red frowned at his bad luck in comparison to Draco's luck of knowing his real name.

"Well, if you don't wake me up with water again tomorrow maybe I'll remember." Draco tried to bite back his anger but some of it leaked onto his face and Red felt ashamed and blushed a bit as he mumbled a 'sorry'. "Before I was splashed awake this morning, I was dreaming of a memory I think. An old man with half-moon spectacles was telling me something and he handed me a picture but I didn't get a chance to see the face."

"Wait, did the old man half a long silver-white beard?" Red asked curiously.

"Yeah." Draco answered with a confused expression. "How'd you know?"

"I don't know . . . " Red's answer offering no help.

They didn't continue their fruitless conversation as they had arrived back at the manor. Red showed Draco were the food went and he also gave him a quick tour of where was able to go as he would be helping with the maintenance of the house during the day. After the fun it was down to business and the rest of the day they cleaned and cleaned. They started by sweeping off all the porches that surrounded the manor and practically every side. Then they went on to sweep all the wood floors that were assigned to them before they washed them by hand. When Draco started to feel his back aching from the tiring work they stopped to eat a small piece of bread that was suppose to pass as a lunch. After a quick drink of water and they were back to cleaning but now they were dusting off every piece of furniture with ancient rags. After having completely cleaning what felt like at least twenty rooms Draco collapsed into a rather uncomfortable chair that whined with age underneath him.

"Do we do this every day?" He asked weakly.

Red gave him a weak smile. "No, just once a week. We have a different list of chores for each day. Oh, and I'd get up before you break that chair or if the--"

Just as he was about to say 'master' the door there was a sound at the open door that lead to the hallway outside. "What are you doing just sitting their and you just standing their?" It was the powerful voice of the Lord of the Manor. Red looked well passed frightened as he knelt before his master, bowing furiously in apology. Draco clumsily followed suit and as he bowed his head down he was roughly yanked into a standing position from his neck which elicited a wince out of him. "What happened to your hair!" The Lord seethed in dormant anger.

Not wanting to give up Red he instead took the blame. "It kept getting in my way when I was doing something so I cut it off." At his lie Red looked at him with fearful and thankful eyes for a split second before he looked back down at the floor. The Lord threw him to the ground. "You are _useless_ now, now you're ugly. You _will _be punished later for your careless action." The Lord fumed as he stormed out of the room. The Lord knew that he shouldn't have let that beautiful boy by himself. He should have chained him up away from his other slaves. But now the boy was dirty and he would pay.

Draco's face contorted with pain as he tried to push himself up with his right hand which he found was throbbing with pain. He had landed on his wrist at a strange angle when he had been thrown down. Before he collapse Red had crawled over to were he was and steadied him so that he could use his other hand to get up. As he leaned against the wall behind him he nursed his wounded wrist, holding it close to himself. Red wouldn't look at him when he started to speak.

"Thank you for telling him-- for taking the fall . . . I--" Red broke off and slowly lifted his gaze to look at Draco weakly. "His punishments are real bad." He finished with misty eyes. "We should go to bed," his eyes fell back to the ground. "We're going to have an early morning tomorrow."

Though no one could really see the sun, Draco knew that it hadn't set yet but he made his way back to his 'room' so that he could think to himself or to even fall asleep in an attempt to dream of his past once more. He drifted off just as he had the night before except he was wearing different clothes and he didnt' slam his head against the floor. Soon enough he began to dream, it was still blurry as it had been before but this time he was in a dark dungeon which made seeing even harder but he could make out a fiery head standing next them him to his right. He turned his head to face forward as he could sense that someone was talking to him. Before him was a sallow looking man that had sunken in and insomniac ridden eyes. He was telling him and the other boy something very important. But what was it? He couldn't even read the lips as his vision did not seem to want to improve even a fraction. All of a sudden sound exploded in his head as if someone had turned the mute off and put the volume on the highest level as a sick joke. A phrase rang through his head. 'Are you listening Mr. Weasley. You and Mr. Malfoy must use this so that--" He was thrown awake as a rush of pain flooded through his body.

He woke to let out a blood-curtling scream both fromt he pain but also because he had yet again been interrupted in his dreaming. When he finally opened his eyes when the pain in his head subsided a little he saw a wide-eyed, drunk and deranged Lord looming above him, dangerously swinging a whip at his side. "I'll teach you not to do things without being given permission from your master you shit-excuse for a slave."

An hour later when his punishment was finally over when the Lord had gotten bored and stumbled out of the shed, Draco stayed in the ball he had curled into at the start of the beating and began to cry as silently as he could afraid that the Lord would get some satisfaction at having made him cry. He cried even harder when he couldn't seem to be able to force himself back to sleep so that he could dream and regain his past. He was finally able to fall into a light sleep two hours before the dull dawn would happen and he did not dream again that night. He could tell it was time to wake as he could feel someone staring at him. When he opened his still-blood shot eyes he saw Red's face and groggily said the first thing that came to his mind, "I know what your name is, well at least I know think I know what your last name is assuming you're the one that was in my dream."

"Really?" Red asked wide-eyed. "What is it?"

"Weasley." Draco rasped as he found the more he talked the more his whole body ached, especially his head and back.

"What kind of name is that?" Weasley's face scrunched up in thought. "Sounds like weasel." Draco laughed at the observation and immediately regretted doing so as it caused pain to shoot through his back and his face quickly adopted a fierce look of pain as he tried to curl into a tighter ball to escape the pain which also did not work. Weasley frowned and sobered up fast. "Sorry." He apologized sadly.

"It could have been worse. Could have gotten the Crutius Curse from my father." Draco was surprised by his own words. He had no idea what that curse was of what it did let alone who a curse could be done. Weasley was thrown off as well as his face became very confused. They both silently stared off in different directions mulling trying to think of what the curse was but eventually they both gave up at the failed attempt to remember any more of their seemingly similar past. After a few more moments Draco slowly sat up and leaned against the wall and breathed deeply to let the wave of nausea to pass as the pain ate away at him before he began to speak. When he did so he did it slowly and haltingly. He told Weasley the rest of his dream, particularly the partial phrase that he had been able to hear.

"I wonder what the rest of the sentence was." Weasley and Draco fell silent again as they thought of the possibilities until after a few moments Draco hit his head lightly at he stupidity.

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco said in amusement which yet again threw Weasley off and drew yet another confused look from him. "so that we wouldn't forget!!" He let a soft sigh of a laugh escape before he continued. "Though I guess neither of us were listening because we didn't take whatever it was he gave us, that or we forgot. That's why we can't remember anything!" Draco smiled at his wonderful and beautifully done deduction reasoning. Weasley just kept on staring at him.

"But why would we forget." The red-haired boy asked still deeply confused.

Draco's face fell into a deep contemplative look as he search for an explanation. "Well, we're both here. So maybe this was our destination . . . the first thing I remember was circling this city . . . What's the first thing you remember, Weasley?"

"Yeah, that's the first thing I remember, too!" Weasley answered with a strange sense of excitement.

"Did you have anything on you? I was--only wearing a cloak." Draco said, too embarrassed to say that he hadn't actually been wearing anything.

"I had a bag with me." Weasley responded before he adopted a hard look. "But I'm not sure where it went. The slaver that found me probably has it."

"Well, we're just going to have to find a way to get that bag back." Draco said cockily with a mischievous smirk plastered on his bruising face.

* * *

Draco hadn't had a plan on the spot that morning but that didn't dampen his hopes. Though Weasley had tried, Draco refused to stay coped up even if was hurt, so Draco had joined him in the expansive garden that was more like a jungle. There were flowers of every sort that were always in bloom, Draco could see a plant of every color of the rainbow even an occasional rainbow-colored flower here and there. The sights in the jungle-garden were spectacular and it often distracted Draco from forming a plan that perhaps couldn't be planned. Around noon-ish, it finally donned on him that it was very odd that this garden was so full of life as the rest of the city was dieing, it was the only thing that contained any color what-so-ever. When he finally thought of this he became very wary of the garden, almost becoming frightened of the live thing.

"You alright, Draco?" Weasley asked over his shoulder as he pulled up another weed and deposited it into a wooden bucket beside him.

"Yeah," He lied. "Just thinking about how we'll get out of here and get that bag back." As he looked up to wipe the sweat from his brow he noticed the view past the garden. It was the castle that seemed to be giving off heat even thought he was at least mile away from its place just off-centre of the city. He stared at it for what must have been ages as he was called back to reality by an urgent tone in Weasley's voice as he called Draco's name just as out of the corner of his eye he could of sworn he had seen a white owl flying in the distance.

"Oh, sorry." Draco said in an airy tone. "I was just looking at the castle."

"Well, don't get too attached because no one goes there, ever. It's against the law or something. Not even our master has the power to get in there and he has tried. I think the only way to get in is to be an offering or something, every three months a boy is sent to the gate and they're never seen again." Weasley ended with a shiver before tending to the endless weeds.

They had luckily not had another run in with their master that would result in any punishments which relieved Draco. As the skies around them darkened even more they finally stopped their work in the gardedn, ate a small piece of bread with some water but instead of shuffling off to their beds they huddled next to a furnace in the basement so that they could warm up their extremeties that had slowly been going cold or numb throughout the day in the garden. They stared into the flames through the bars on the furnace door contemplating their next move.

Weasley broke the silence. "Well, the master's not just going to let us waltz off he property."

Draco didn't immediately answer Weasley which allowed another moment of silence to creep in, he spoke before it could settle. "When is the next time someone will be sent to the market again?"

"Three days but it won't be us. We won't be sent to the market to get food for six days from now." Weasley answered flatly, having no idea where Draco was going with this.

"Let's just hope I have a plan by then." Draco said with a smile. "Well, I'm off for bed to dream again. Maybe I'll learn some more of our past." He smiled weakly as he struggled to stand, finally wavering to an upright position on his wobbly legs. Weasley wished him good-night as he too went to bed in a different direction.

Draco genlty and slowly laid down onto his make-shift bed and pondered how he was going to manage to escape without having the Lord trying to find him though once he thought about it, he wasn't sure if the Lord would actually look for him. The man had paid a large sum for him as he had handed his whole purse to Bartholomew. _I wonder why he was willing to pay so much for me . . . was he going to try to use me as an offering to get into the castle? No that doesn't really make sense because then it wouldn't have mattered if my hair had been cut . . ._ This train of thought was only making him more confused though he surmised that the Lord wouldn't in fact try that hard to find them because he was now useless as the Lord had put it just the day before.

Now that he had decided it wouldn't actually be hard at all to get away from this slavery Draco turned his thoughts to how he and Weasley were going to find the human-stables that he had been in just two days ago. He had no idea where it was and he hadn't been paying attention to how long the carriage ride took or to the scenery around him. He grew angry over his lack of foresight for his weakness of being unsettled by the Lord's perverted attempts to touch him.

His anger ebbed away as his mind once again surrendered to sleep--to dream. It seemed as though he had just shut his eyes when his inner mind opened and he was thrown into a dream. This one was much more vivid than the other two yet he still couldn't make anything out. This was because everything around him was moving so fast he couldn't keep track of anything of anyone. On top of that he couldn't hear anything other than screaming and explosions all around him. He knew someone was behind him but he wouldn't turn, he was throwing bright lights out of a stick . . . he was sending spells from his . . . from his--his wand!! That's what it was he was defending himself, he was defending the person behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Weasley when he got hit by a blue streak. When this happened the boy behind him screamed 'RON' and ran toward the fallen boy. His dream self ran after the raven-haired boy--but it was too late a hooded figure came out of nowhere and disappeared into thin air with him. Draco's dream self screamed as he did when he woke up.

"HARRY!!"

TBC


End file.
